


Edge Of The World

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-04
Updated: 2006-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://sdqb.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://sdqb.livejournal.com/"><b>sdqb</b></a> 444 prompt afterlife and <a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/"><b>gw500</b></a> prompt mouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Edge Of The World

The cement floor was like a block of ice and Quatre could feel the cold seeping through his clothes despite the heavy jeans and thermal underwear he was wearing. He forced himself to his feet and began to pace, stomping his feet to help keep the blood flowing. His feet were tingling; a burning sensation that would not ease up even when he moved.

Frowning, Quatre hunched further into the heavy coat he wore trying to remember the lecture that Sally had given him on cold safety before he'd left on this mission. Carefully he flexed his fingers, making sure he could still feel them. They were painfully stiff, but they all functioned at his command. Breathing out a sigh of relief that turned into a cloud of white, Quatre surveyed his surroundings again. There had to be something he'd missed, some little thing that could make the difference.

The room was still devoid of anything but him. The broken window, high up on the far wall, let in the freezing cold and the walls shone with a slick covering of ice from the moisture that hung heavy in the air. At least the weather kept the vermin at bay. Quatre shuddered, not wanting to think about the time he'd spent undercover as a homeless man. He'd barely slept at night; the sound of little toenails, scratching at the cardboard box he had claimed as his home, jerking him awake every time he'd started to drift off.

Pacing the length of the room, Quatre unconsciously began to count off again. Still five hundred and twelve paces long and half that across. He crossed to right below the window and crouched before launching himself in the air. His fingers brushed the icy wall, inches below the broken window. Going down on one knee, Quatre whimpered as his frozen feet gave out when his full weight slammed back down on them.

"Shit!" Quatre pounded his fists on the wall, venting some of his frustration and desperation. "Think, Quatre, or you are going to die here!"

Said aloud the words had a heavy sense of finality to them that made him shiver from something other than the cold. If he were a Christian he would at least have an eternity of hell to look forward. He'd never be cold again. A choked laugh that was almost a sob escaped his cracked lips. God, how pathetic was it that he was longing for an afterlife of damnation just so he could be warm?

Pushing carefully off the wall Quatre stood again, his legs feeling shaky, but somehow holding him upright. Bracing himself against the icy surface he ran for the wooden door that was set opposite where he stood. He hit it with a solid thunk; his body making contact with the deceptively rickety looking door. His arm and shoulder screamed in pain and Quatre could feel the frustration growing again. Though he knew it wouldn't make a different he kicked out, his toe making a slight dent in the wood.

From the other side came a noise that sounded eerie similar to the one that had just bounced off the walls of his prison. Quatre held his breath, listening for something, anything, besides the wind howling through the window. Hands splayed on the wooden door, he felt it shudder beneath his fingers, a vibration moving through it. There was another and he pushed, feeling it give a little.

A spark of hope in his chest flared into a flame and he began kicking and punching the door, desperation and fear mixing with the cold to deaden the pain in his hands and feet. Once more it shifted slightly and then flew open. With a sob of relief Quatre fell forward into Trowa's waiting arms.


End file.
